


Harder To Breathe

by PrincessMisery86



Series: Truth & Consequences. [3]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Fighting, baby gets damaged, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 09:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20758124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMisery86/pseuds/PrincessMisery86
Summary: Summary: Follow on from Can’t Lie and Drink You Away. Quinn deals with the aftermath of Dean’s confession.Warnings: cheating, language, angst, Baby gets damaged (I’m sorry!), physical violence.Song & Artist: Harder To Breathe - Maroon 5.Word Count: 2.3k (including lyrics).Notes: Follow on from ‘Can’t Lie’ and ‘Drink You Away’, although don’t necessarily need to read them.Characters: Dean Winchester, Female OC, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester, Male OC (mentioned).Pairing: Dean x Female OC.





	Harder To Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Hey and welcome! So to make long story short, I have progressive hearing loss in my left ear (I have lost 80% of my hearing so far.) Docs say my right ear will also start to deteriorate, there’s no explanation for it and it’s irreversible. I’m not looking for sympathy, it is what it is. But it does mean I have been listening to a shit ton of music lately, every chance I get, which is sparking inspiration for fics. So I’ve set myself a challenge (thanks for the idea @negans-lucille-tblr and @firefly-in-darkness) to write a fic based on a song for every letter of the alphabet.  
Notes:  
I have a few ideas already but don’t have any set completion date, I will write and post as they come to me.  
Fics will more than likely be for Supernatural or Jensen/Jared but will make sure to label accordingly.  
There’s no specific music genre - I listen to everything, rock, pop, hip hop, r’n’b, rap, dance, metal, house, garage, I will listen to anything if I like it.  
Welcome to send me some ideas.  
It may be a whole song that I take inspiration from or just a certain line or lines. Lyrics will be in each post.  
Posting to Tumblr too - @PrincessMisery666

##  **Harder To Breathe**

The sound of cascading glass had never sounded so _fucking_ sweet. The sight of the busted back window replaced the image in Quinn’s mind of Dean screwing some faceless woman. She had spent three weeks blaming that woman, calling her all kinds of degrading names while she cried in Jody’s arms. Degrading names that should never be uttered by one woman about another.

That was before Quinn realized it wasn’t the other woman’s fault. It was all on Dean. He had probably claimed to be single, or the subject never arose. It’s not like he was wearing a ring or any other mark identifying that he belonged to someone else.

Quinn hadn’t spoken to Dean since she’d left. She didn’t want to. She had nothing to say. She had been staying with Jody, helping out around the house to earn her keep. To further distract herself, she’d done a couple solo hunts. One was an easy salt and burn, the other was a shifter she’d had a little too much fun pounding to mush with a baseball bat. She couldn’t help thinking Negan would have been proud. Binge watching the show had become another form of distraction from thinking about Dean.

Keeping her mind occupied was holding the bombardment of images at bay. Images of the man she loved screwing someone else, in a dive bar bathroom, in a threadbare motel room, in the back of the Impala. Her mind had conjured up every scenario, so distractions were welcome. It had been working too, until she arrived back at Jody’s to find Baby sitting in the driveway, glistening in the afternoon sunshine.

As far as she knew, neither Winchester knew she was there. She could easily have walked away, asked Jody to call her when they were gone, but that car tripped a switch inside of Quinn. She knew it was childish, immature even, but if she could hurt Dean somehow, in any way cause him some pain, she might feel a tiny bit better.

The crowbar cut the air above her head, sailed toward the back passenger window, and glass shattered again. The patter of broken debris subsided by the time she had lined herself up to take a shot at the passenger window. Jody, Sam and Dean were out of the house in time to see her swing the metal bar for the third time.

The force of the weapon hitting the glass caused it to slip, and she felt it open a gash on the palm of her hand, but it barely registered. She wasn’t done yet. She could worry about cuts later. A two handed grip gave her a harder swing anyway. Metal on metal crunched a pale chunk into Baby’s bonnet, white blemishes appeared on the sleek black car as she repeatedly bought the bar down.

“Quinn, come on,” Jody called out.

Quinn ignored the sheriff, keeping eye contact with Dean as she walked around to the driver’s side. He stood still, hands in his pockets, lips in a tight line.

Jody began taking a step toward her, “That’s enough-”

“Don’t,” Dean stopped her with a firm hand gripping her shoulder, and Jody looked back at him with eyebrows raised in silent question. “She needs to do this. Let her do it.”

Quinn didn’t hear the exchange. She was too focused on her mission. The vandalism continued. The windshield took four hits. The glass cracked in almost pretty circular patterns but didn’t quite break. Dean’s window went through after one perfect shot to the middle. The screech of metal made Dean physically flinch as she used the tip of the crowbar to scratch a jagged line from the driver’s door to the trunk.

Quinn’s arm ached from the vibrations, but she didn’t feel it. Not yet. She’d found a strength she didn’t know she had. She lifted her arms to take out the last window when the blood trickling down her wrist caught her eye.

She stared at it. This was Dean’s fault, too. He did this. Now he’d made her physically bleed, too, and it hurt. Everything hurt. Her heart ached, her mind was tired, her muscles burned, her hand stung. Everything just _hurt_.

Quinn’s protesting muscles made her arms drop to her side, and she took a step back to access her handy work. She didn’t feel any better. She felt guilty. Baby didn’t deserve it, Baby had been her safe haven for so long. Baby was her home, just like Dean had been.

Her eyes traveled the length of the Impala, taking in the damage she’d caused, until they met Dean’s. He held her icy glare as he walked toward her, tears pooling in his eyes. Maybe they were remorseful tears for what he’d done to her, or maybe they were sorrowful tears, seeing the destruction of Baby, but Quinn didn’t know. She told herself she didn’t care.

“I know you’re mad, but you do realize this means I’m gonna be here longer now, right?”

She didn’t trust her voice to speak. It would break, it couldn’t hold the venom she wanted to spit at him.

_Bite me asshole! I fucking hate you,_ she spat violently in her mind instead.

Only she didn’t. She’d tried–had spent hours chanting it like a mantra in her head–but she didn’t hate him.

The crowbar clattered and bounced once as it landed on the glass soaked ground when she turned her back on him to walk away. She was a step from her car door when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her departure.

“Wait, ple-”

Her fist connected with the left side of Dean’s mouth as his grip pulled her back. Her Dad always taught her, ‘If you’re going to throw the first punch, make it count.’ And damn, did she make it count! He raised his head back up slowly to look at her, his bottom lip split open, a stream of crimson making a path down his chin. Their eyes locked for a second while they both decided their next move, Dean’s tongue licking at his blood.

“I’m sorry,” Dean told her. 

His apology made Quinn’s blood boil. More than boil. It was molten lava, scorching her from the inside, threatening to erupt in the worst possible ways. What good was ‘sorry’ to her? Sorry didn’t make up for the sleepless nights, it didn’t replace the tears she had cried. It didn’t make her feel any less betrayed. His words were for him, because it was the right thing to say. If he were really sorry, he never would have put himself in the position to need to apologize.

In that moment, she wished death upon Dean Winchester, a slow, painful, scream-inducing death. He deserved it, and she wanted to deliver it. She snatched her wrist from him, shoved her hands into his chest with all the strength she had, and he stumbled but kept his balance.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, fixing his eyes to hers again.

The volcano of emotions inside her erupted in the form of fists battering Dean’s chest like a Silver-back Gorilla asserting its dominance. Only she wasn’t showing her dominance, she was just pissed. Deep, anguished sobs and growls escaped her while she pounded him repeatedly. Her injured hand throbbed, her blood soaked into his shirt.

“Q, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he continued to apologize between puffs of breath as she hit the same spot over and over again. She was going to leave bruises. He could deal with the bruises, he’d be fine with it because, as long as she was fighting him, she wasn’t running away, wasn’t ignoring him. 

“Stop,” Sam pleaded, standing over Dean’s shoulder, “Q, stop!” 

She knew Sam would stop her, sooner rather than later. He wouldn’t tolerate the physical abuse of his brother much longer. He’d seen enough of it over the years, and she shouldn’t be adding to the list of people Sam had watched beat his brother. But she was too deep in her fury, too focused on her desire to hurt the elder Winchester, to fully comprehend that she was hurting more than just Dean. She wanted Dean to feel what she felt: the crushing weight on her chest, the physical pain she suffered but hadn’t found a cure for. Bruises, cuts, wounds. They all heal, but how do you heal a broken heart? Her fists didn’t communicate her pain, though, and Dean had been hit so many times, he was probably numb to it anyway.

“Fight back, you bastard!” she cried, the need to have her actions justified becoming too much.

A final blow to Dean’s jaw was the limit for him. He’d reached the peak of what he could handle. As her arm coiled back to strike again, Dean launched himself at her, arresting her arms and using his superior strength to shove her back into her car. Her back slammed into the metal, and a small cry escaped her mouth with a whoosh of air.

“Stop fighting. Please,” he begged. He held her arms by the wrists and pinned them to her sides. No doubt he suspected his weight crushing her against the car was painful, but he wouldn’t let up until she stopped resisting.

Quinn pushed back against him. If the circumstances had been different, it would have been an instant turn on. Adrenaline and stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to stop fighting, not yet. She needed to lash out. She could control her fight, she would embrace it because it meant she was exhausted for a reason other than heart ache.

The way Dean pressed firmly against her, his all too familiar aroma, the sensation of his arms around her, the contours of their bodies fitting together the way they had many times before; it caused the fight to drain from her weary body through the tears she sobbed onto his shoulder.

His flood of whispered apologies tickled her ear, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs to tell him to let her go, but her withering body in his arms seemed to give him the message, and she shrugged out of his grasp.

“Please, don’t leave,” he asked, “Please stay so we can talk, so we can try-”

Her fierce glare cut off his words. “I swear, if you say work this out…” she interrupted, speaking through gritted teeth.

Dean held his palms up showing his surrender backing away, worried she might lash out again. “Please. Quinn, I just want a-”

“I don’t give a damn what you want!” she growled at him, opening her car door.

Sam stepped forward, his sympathetic features helping to soften her glare, but anger burned behind her eyes still. “Quinn, come inside. Please.”

She regarded Sam in disbelief and shook her head as she climbed behind the wheel. Did he honestly think that was a good idea? For her to be in a confined space with Dean, where there were knives and any other number of everyday items that could be used as a weapon to inflict pain on his brother. Dean must have thought so, as he jumped forward and caught her door before she pulled it shut.

“Where are you going to go?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes forward, unwilling to look at him. “Wherever you’re not.”

“You’re injured,” he reminded her, “at least let Sam look at it.”

She lifted her hand from the steering wheel to access the damage. The cut was deep. It would need stitching, and she knew it would leave a scar. Dean’s reminder seemed to trigger the pain. She felt it now, the sting and the tingle of pins and needles from blood loss.

Quinn looked to Jody through the open door. “I’ll be at Wyatt’s,” she told her, “he can stitch me up.”

Jody nodded once with a tight smile. “Okay, I’ll call you when they’re gone,” she promised.

“Who the hell is Wyatt?” Dean questioned, anger seeping in to his tone.

Quinn finally met his eyes, an evil smirk dancing on her lips. This was how she’d hurt him. This was how she’d get her revenge.

“The soldier I’ve been screwing for the last two weeks,” she answered.

Then she pulled the door closed and sped off. From the rearview mirror, she saw the unmistakable, infuriated flex of Dean’s jaw. Her fists hadn’t hurt him, but her words had. 

_________________________

**Lyrics (not all)**

How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable  
So condescending unnecessarily critical  
I have the tendency of getting very physical  
So watch your step ‘cause if I do you’ll need a miracle  
You drain me dry and make me wonder why I’m even here  
The double vision I was seeing is finally clear  
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone  
Not fit to fuckin’ tread the ground I’m walking on  
When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love  
You’ll understand what I mean when I say  
There’s no way we’re gonna give up  
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams  
Is there anyone out there 'cause it’s getting harder and harder to breathe

What you are doing is screwing things up inside my head  
You should know better you never listened to a word I said  
Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat  
Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did  
Does it kill  
Does it burn  
Is it painful to learn  
That it’s me that has all the control  
Does it thrill  
Does it sting  
When you feel what I bring  
And you wish that you had me to hold


End file.
